Identity
Let them be as summer days
always played in, admired, and loved,
but soon forgotten with the rest.
I'd rather be a strong stormy night,
with bellowing winds, clashing thunder,
and lighting bright.
The desolent night with its pounding rains.
To show my might and that I'm not afraid.
With gushing winds of ancient days, carrying my soul,
beyond the haze, I'll long be remembered in lingering thoughts.
I'd rather be seen, and if then shunned by everyone,
than to be a pleasant summer day that come in clusters.
I'd rather be fearfully remembered then just
another vague day of play
If I could have bellowing winds, clashing thunder,
and lighting bright as can be I'd stand out above
the rest as just me.
Poetry Corner
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